Memoria Deleo
by I-see-thestrals
Summary: Its like a dream, where you wake up, and you can only remember bits and pieces. As Harry Potter vanishes, Alex Riddle, Lord Voldemorts new heir, appears. How can the Order of the Phoenix regain their saviors memories? No slash
1. A twist in the plot of a prophecy

**Post OOTP- **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Chapter one**

Harry was walking down Mongolia Crescent. The sun was setting, and he had just enough time to get home before Dudley would, or else he would be late. He felt as though he was walking past the same picture, over and over again. Each house was the same, with an occasional bushel of flowers that represented a different color.

Harry had been walking for well over two hours. He had grown accustomed to it. Since Sirius had died just a month ago…. It- it just helped cleared his mind. His energy would often wither, and he would be able to sleep. Which if he was lucky, he would not dream of Sirius falling through the veil again.

Harry still felt guilty of Sirius's death. If he hadn't believed in the vision all would be well. When Harry could remember to do it though, he would blame the death on Snape's jeering and taunting. That was what also had pushed his Godfather out of the house.

Harry had seen Dudley and his gang in the park only an hour ago, and hoped that Dudley had not already separated from his cronies and made his way back to Privet Drive.

Cronies…Like Malfoy's 'cronies', Crabbe and Goyle, or Crap and Gargoyle as he had now thought of them. He hated Malfoy so much. Malfoy had gotten him in trouble with Umbridge, and had helped ruin the D.A…. Not to mention he was part of the inquisitorial squad.

When Harry was not out walking, he was locked in his room, pretending not to exist as he had years ago. During those isolated days, he would practice wandless magic. It was undetected, and he was able to use it without getting caught by anyone. Although he could not perform every spell in the book, he was rather proud of his progress.

He had also put a lot more time into Occlumency. He had enough motivation and determination now. He would not be fooled again. In another month or so, he was sure no one would be able to break into his mind. Not even Voldemort himself. He was even practicing to block the link they shared.

Harry started to break into a run, he was not far from Privet Drive, and Dudley might get home before him. Besides, if he got home late, he was sure his relatives would lock him out and he would get to sleep outside on the lovely comfy doorstep.

Running around the Corner and onto Privet Drive, Harry spotted Dudley not far away coming up from the end of the street. Running faster-

THWACK!

Harry felt a horrible pain in his head as he dropped to the ground, his hands in front of him supporting his fall.

"Are you sure this is Potter," Harry heard a voice behind him he recognized instantly. "That was way to easy."

"Yes Bellatrix," came the drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy. "Now grab the boy and let's go."

At these words, Harry frantically tried to stand, but was held into place by a firm, black boot.

"Just stun him and get it over with." Lucius said impatiently.

"_Crucio!" _Bellatrix shrieked, and watched as Harry writhed and wreathed on the ground screaming. Lucius gave her a glare.

"Oops, Wrong spell." She giggled, and muttered a stunning spell.

"Come on potter, let's go," Harry heard Lucius mutter, as he picked him up, and they apparated away.

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Harry was enervated, and found himself in the familiar center of Deatheaters.

_Guess this is it for the great Harry Potter, _Harry thought jokingly to himself. _Voldemort has me again, wandless too. But he doesn't know what **else **I can do._

Harry stood up, ready for the worst, and a speech from Voldemort, but it never came. Instead, Voldemort's attention focused solely on the Deatheater he was having a chat with.

"Great, you can do it then?" Voldemort said, now a little louder.

"Yes mi'lord," the deatheater said humbly, before bowing and returning to his place in the center.

"All right, Nott's taking care of his vision- you two," Voldemort said pointing to two random Deatheaters, "Hair cut. Only a trim…. You find him some decent clothes."

"Wait- what?" but Voldemort was completely ignoring Harry's presence. It kind of bothered him a bit.

"Oh and Bellatrix, make sure the boy showers and eats. He probably hasn't eaten for what looks like a week." Voldemort said, staring at Harry's stick form. "Severus are you sure we wont need the age potion?"

"Age potion?" Harry said confused, but was once again ignored. He did not want to be fed a-

"Not at all Mi'lord, he should be fine." Snape stepped forward, bowing and returning to his place. _Yay Snape_, Harry thought.

"Great, then I'll be there in an hour to modify his memory." Voldemort said waving his hand.

"What?" said Harry, looking around frantically? "No- no, no, no, no, no! You can't do that!" Harry felt an arm brush his shoulder, but he jerked forward, realizing a Deatheater was making a move to grab him.

Harry waved his hand, and the section of Deatheaters closest to the set of doors leading out was blown away.

"Harry, I can and I will. Don't be rash. Just come back over here"-

"No," Harry screamed, delivering a roundhouse kick to a deatheater giving another attempt to reach him. Putting up another shield as a weak stunner came at him, he bolted for the door. Behind him, holding one hand up as a full body shield, Harry tried to turn the knob. It wouldn't budge.

"Alohamora," Harry said desperately. "Aloha"- But Harry's shield was instantly broken by a series of crucios.

"Harry, you knew you could not escape. Why did you waste your time?" Came Voldemort's high and boastful voice. Harry did not answer, he was too weak. "Tie him up."

Harry felt magical ropes entwine around his body. They prevented him from doing his wandless magic, but the sets of the Cruciatious curse did as well.

Harry felt himself be picked up roughly by the elbows, and shoved through doors. A small crowd of Deatheaters followed them up the stairs, and into a large room.

Harry felt as though he had entered a hotel suite. The room had a king size bed, a wardrobe and sitting area. Not to mention a full size bathroom and mini library.

The deatheater, who was holding him, handed him into the arms of Bellatrix Lestrange, who pushed him through the bathroom door. _Oh Lord, _Harry thought as Bellatrix ran the water high with foamy bubbles at the top. He knew what was coming. Bellatrix removed his shirt and happily began to do the rest, being the sick, twisted pervert that she was, and then dunked him in the tub.

The water took him a moment to get used to, as it was scalding hot, but Harry came around. Bellatrix began scrubbing him, and washing his hair as he sat there immobile during the process.

When the process was finished, Bellatrix dried him off and began to unfold a black robe.

"I'm not wearing that." Harry snapped, showing his Gryffindor stubborn. "It looks like a dress."

"Would you rather be naked? I wouldn't mind it." Bellatrix replied in a voice Harry thought sounded a bit like Moaning Myrtle's when she had acted that way.

"Dress it is." Harry said aggravated. If the youngest Malfoy was a deatheater…. He shuddered at the thought of his school rival seeing him in that embarrassment.

After Harry was dressed, he was tied to a surprisingly comfortable chair where a house elf with a tray of food was waiting.

A deatheater took the tray, and shoved the elf away.

"Uh, how am I supposed to"- by Harry was quickly interrupted by the deatheater cramming a slice of bread in his mouth. Harry gagged, and then swallowed. "Thanks." He said his tone dripping with sarcasm.

A deatheater stepped up, and removed Harry's glasses and pulled out his wand. Harry guessed him to be Nott. Immense pain was surging through Harry's eyes and forehead as the Deatheater roughly scraped the wand around the upper part of Harry's face.

When the Deatheater tested Harry's vision he asked, "What are these?" Harry saw clearly he was holding up his black-rimmed glasses.

"My glasses," Harry replied dumbly.

"Good," and with that the deatheater dropped them to the floor, smashing them beneath his foot before walking away.

Harry saw little snippets of hair fall down to the ground, some falling on his 'robe.' Harry hoped they would not give him as bad a haircut as his aunt did years ago. Harry wondered if his relatives were even worried about him…. Nope.

Harry heard a soft noise, and he saw all the hair that had been cut rise into the air and vanish.

_And now we wait,_ Harry thought, not at all excited for his and Voldemorts' next encounter.

The doors opened and Voldemort walked in, wearing a triumphant smirk. "Oh how the great Harry Potter has changed. Years ago you wouldn't even think of joining me, and now, your all up for it how sweet."

"D-do you have to wipe my memory?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes Harry. I'm afraid we do. You see, your hatred for the dark side and me is too strong. I'm afraid I have too. But do not fret; this is for your own good. You will be more powerful than ever. You will not even want to remember any of this."

"No, No, that's not true," said Harry pushing his head back at Voldemort's nearing wand. "You can't do this!"

"Oh I can Harry," said Voldemort as one Deatheater held Harry's head firmly in place. "And I will."

Voldemort's words followed a flash of light and-  
"OBLIVIATE!"

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So what do you think, please review!

This story goes out to Werewolf777! She wrote but she let me steal it! Check out her other fanfictions!


	2. Imperio, my friend Draco

**Aww, you guys are so sweet. Thanks for such sweet reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Chapter 2**

Alex woke up the next morning to see a house elf by his bedside.

"What do you want?" Alex asked it roughly.

"Master Alex, Angus has a note for you! Angus has a note." The house elf spoke in a high and anxious voice.

"So hand it over." Alex took the note, and shoved the house-elf away, resulting him to give a little squeak.

_Alex-_

_Breakfast will be held with those of the inner circle. Wear you're finest robes and come down here in seven minutes sharp. _

_-Father_

Alex knew that Voldemort really wasn't his father. He was from a pureblood family who had squandered their fortune, and could not afford Alex. Being followers of Voldemort, they offered him up to be a Deatheater. But Voldemort had gone farther than that. He considered Voldemort as his adoptive father really.

Alex knew at least three minutes had passed already, so he leapt from his cozy bed, and sprinted to the dresser. Grabbing a dark green robe with silver hem, Alex slipped it on and made to the mirror to fix his hair a bit. It was cut to perfect length, and he was able to get it to stay in one place that looked suitable to him.

With two minutes to go, Alex ran zoomed out of his bedroom, and ran down the stairs. He opened the dining room puffing and wheezing.

The dining room looked like a giant cathedral. It was certainly long, with tall windows. The ceiling seemed to go on and on, and had chandeliers hanging and glistening.

"Ah, Alex, right on time really. Take a seat." Voldemort indicated to a chair beside him, and Alex sat.

A chorus 'Good morning Young Master' came about, as all the Deatheaters stood and bowed.

"You may sit." Alex told them, and they all did so.

The meal really was luxurious, as Alex was accustomed to. There were also house-elves up and around, tending to his every whim.

"Alex," Voldemort said, as many of the Deatheaters began to shuffle out of the door.

"Yes?" Alex asked.

"You do remember you have lessons today, correct?"

"Yes father," Alex sighed, and made his way out of the room to prepare for the lesson.

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Lord Voldemort stood by the door of the training room, waiting for Harry- Alex. He even had trouble remembering to call him that. One deatheater had even mentioned the name, and the unfortunate soul had been under the cruciatious curse for a _very _long time.

He could just kill Alex, but the power radiating off of him was to strong, he knew. The boy even knew advanced wandless magic. He was also a parselmouth, and the Dark Lord was not sure if he wanted to destroy someone who spoke the tongue.

Besides, Voldemort did not know the full contents of the prophecy. If he killed Alex, what would happen? He assumed with all this talk of Alex being the 'chosen one meant something. So if he had Alex's full loyalty that meant that Voldemort was…. even more immortal perhaps?

He had to do a lot of work to ensure Alex would not question anything. He could not just obliviate him and leave it at that. The boy's head was filled with lies. A lot of them. They all ensued of Happy memories with Voldemort, and even some with Draco Malfoy. He had made sure Alex had someone to call a friend, and Draco was only a bit hesitant to go along with it.

The Dark Lord's thoughts were interrupted when Alex walked into the room wearing robes of black, which cascaded to the floor.

"Hello Alex." Voldemort said to the boy, who looked a bit agitated.

"Hello father." Alex said, closing the door behind him.

"Did you enjoy breakfast?" Voldemort said, trying to bring the boy's mind from any disturbing or angering thought he may have.

"Yes father." Alex replied shortly. "And what are we studying today?"

"The imperious curse." Voldemort was not sure whether to study this so soon, but it seemed to light up the Alex's face.

"Alright father, who are we practicing on?" Alex asked.

Voldemort had considered using a Weasley to see Alex's reaction, but considered it bad if one of them were to start screaming, "Harry, it's me! Remember?" So he thought it best to use a young muggle girl.

"Just a worthless muggle girl I had a Deatheater pick up from nearby. We'll kill her in the end."

"Excellent." Alex replied with a greedy expression on his face.

Moments later, a frightened girl was shoved into the room, bound and tearful. Alex walked up to her supporting a smug expression on his face. She looked up in terror at the towering form over her.

"Untie her, and start with making her do something simple. Like cartwheels for instance. You may progress to different things as time goes on." Voldemort said, and Alex immediately began. Soon she was doing cartwheels all around the room.

When Alex grew bored with Cartwheels, he had the girl run into the wall repeatedly. He knew it was immature, but he couldn't help but snicker at the sight.

Voldemort gave Alex an are-you-kidding-me look, and Alex moved onto something else in embarrassment.

By the end of the lesson, the girl had a bloody nose and a fractured leg. Voldemort sent a flash of green light at the girl, and she died instantly.

"Tomorrow's lesson, Alex, will be a bit better in your mind I'm sure." Voldemort said before leaving the room and Alex alone within it.

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Alex really did enjoy that lesson. Using the curse made him feel powerful. _Really powerful_. He liked the idea of the girl doing whatever he wished. Not that he didn't had that already with the way Deatheaters treated him like a God. Or, a mini God really, only being the heir and all.

He didn't even want to go to the lesson. He had gone to so many lessons with his father already, and he was sick of them. But if lessons were going to get as good as this, he could make time for them.

There was a knock at the door, and Alex looked over to the door.

"Come in." He called, and in walked Draco Malfoy, his best friend. Draco lowered himself into a bow.

"Cut it out. You know you don't have to that when were alone." Alex snapped at him.

Actually, Draco _didn't _know. He was told to bow to Alex, and refer to him as Young Master. He was taught to treat him as he would the Dark Lord.

"Yes, Young Master." Draco replied. Inside he was screaming. _THIS WAS HARRY POTTER! HE SHOULD NOT HAVE TO-_

"Draco, don't call me that." Alex was now laughing. "Seriously, no one is around to reprimand you for calling me Alex. And none of this bowing crap."

Draco was relieved to hear this, but was torn between the two orders. Follow the Dark Lord's orders, ones of which he totally hated, and was just told not to follow by his heir or…

"Yes Alex," He said quietly, praying to God no one would overhear them.

"Ah thank you. Did you happen to see Bella at all this morning? I didn't see her at breakfast." Alex asked, sounding slightly worried.

Draco was taken aback at first. She was the woman who killed his Godfather. _Wait duh, he doesn't remember, _Draco thought dumbly, mentally slapping himself.

"No, I did not, Young"-

"Draco, stop!" Alex corrected him angrily.

"Sorry…Alex." Draco apologized. "So how was your lesson? I am told that you practiced the imperious curse. I rather enjoyed it, I must say."

Alex knew Draco to be boastful, and he laughed inside. "Yeah, it was great. I liked it too, you know. I practiced on this Muggle girl. She was pathetic really. Whimpering every time."

They both laughed, and developed into a conversation, changing in between topics as they went.

When another House-elf appeared warning Alex for a private lunch with the Dark Lord, he sighed, and said his good-byes to Draco.

He changed into a new robe for the occasion and sighed again.

Everything was so formal. Alex always wore dress robes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He couldn't even call the Dark lord _Dad. _He was only 15 and he was bowed to by a bunch of grown wizards and witches.

He left the room, and made his way to the dining hall for a long, and _formal _lunch.

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**So what do you think? Over 16 reviews on the first chapter! You guys ROCK! Thanks so much! Review please! It'll keep me going! If you like this story it would be great if you could check out "Harry Potter and the Newfound Spell" by werewolf777! She would appreciate it! Thanx!**


	3. Woe upon us, our savior is missing

**Thanks guys for all you wonderful reviews!**

**The 31st reviewer gets the chapter dedicated to them!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Sorry I didn't update sooner! **

**Chapter 3**

"Alex," Voldemort said in acknowledgement to Alex's presence.

"Father," Alex replied back, shutting the large black door behind him. The room was empty, except for just Alex and the Dark Lord, and to Alex, it seemed a bit creepier with less people. His footsteps echoed and you could hear the chandlers swaying.

Alex sat down at the table, and unfolded his napkin. There was a continued silence that felt almost awkward to Alex. He thought of a topic that would break the silence.

"So, what are we doing in tomorrow's lesson?" he asked, before shoving a bite of food into his mouth.

"That would just ruin the surprise."

"I don't need any surprises." Alex pleaded.

Voldemort just slowly shook his head, leaving Alex to his disappointment. It's not that Alex was clueless. He just wasn't one hundred percent sure. He thought they would be continuing unforgivables- the Cruciatious curse.

Alex pushed another forkful of food into his mouth, and then took another sip of his water.

Most of the lunch continued in silence, and although Alex tried to start a conversation, it abruptly stopped. As annoying as it was, he had to continue through the dinner with quiet.

Fifteen minutes later, the lunch ended, and Alex was left for some time to himself before dinner. A _lot _of Deatheaters were going to be there. It was sort of like a banquet for Alex didn't know what.

He went into his room, which was sprinkled with silver and green, and an occasional black.

He was starting to feel abit nauseas, so he decided a nice, hot shower was best for him. He walked into his bathroom, which was at least seventeen times the regular size of a bathroom in a regular muggle house. He ran the water, and when the mirror on the bathroom began to get foggy, he stripped himself of his clothing and scooted in.

It felt great, and it rid him of his sick feeling. About ten minutes later, he turned off the water, and rapped himself in a towel before walking to his wardrobe to get a fresh set of robes.

The wizarding world was going insane! Harry Potter, their 'savior' was missing! He had not returned home that night, and now it was a huge ordeal.

At Number 12, Grimauld Place, it was even worse. There was a meeting being held now, and they were discussing the event.

"Albus, what are we going to do?" Minerva McGonagol asked, ringing her hands.

"I don't know Minerva, did the aurors check out Privet Drive?"

"Yes, yes, and such _good_ they did." She replied with sarcasm. "The aurors never do anything."

He sighed, and stood, and spoke in a calm, ordering voice, "Attention everyone, please take your seats. We are here to discuss something of utmost importance, how about we start?"

Everyone immediately took their seats.

"Harry Potter, as I'm sure most of us know, is missing. We have spoken to his aunt and uncle, his cousin even, and they know not about his whereabouts. We do not need to assume the worst though. Aurors are out on a search right now as I speak. If anyone happens to know where Mr. Potter may be, we would much like to discuss it."

Several people looked as though they were about to say something, when a loud crash outside of the door interrupted them.

"Ginny, can you hear anything? I think Mum remembered to put charms up this time." Ron said, crouching low to the floor, trying to peer through a crack in the door.

"No, I can't! Harry's our friend too- we should be in there helping." Ginny whined.

Hermione, who sat on the stairs reading a thick book, looked up smugly. The two had been trying to listen in on the Order meeting for the past fifteen minutes. Hermione had told them it was impossible, but they seemed bent on trying.

"Listen, as I told you before, you won't be able to hear anything. And if they see you out here, they'll never include you in meetings." Hermione said crossly.

"Well, everything has a weakness. We're just trying to find it. Sorry if _you_ don't care for Harry's well-being." Ginny snapped.

"I care for Harry as much as you do!" Hermione said defensively. "I just know what you're trying to do is impossible."

"Ron, try looking through the top of the door," Ginny whispered.

"All right," Ron said hurrying off. He returned seconds later with a wooden chair. "Move," he said roughly.

Ron placed the chair in front of the door and stood awkwardly on top of it, doing his best to balance.

"Needs to be a little taller," Ron said to himself. He gently placed one foot one the top of the chairs back. He steadied himself against the doorframe, and placed his other foot on the chair back too. "There." He murmured.

"Now look into the crack and see if you can see anything." Ginny told him.

"I know," He replied coldly. He adjusted his head so he could try and see through the crack provided. He adjusted it several times before pulling it back.

"Ginny, I don't see anything."

"I told you," came Hermione's singsong voice.

Ron turned to glare at her, causing the chair to wobble from under him. It swayed once, and tried frantically to steady it. Ginny jumped up too, and ran over to help. The chair wiggled, and fell, along with Ron, on top of Ginny. A chair leg broke from the crash, and Ginny mumbled, "Ow."

Hermione put down her book, and walked over to them. She removed the chair, and helped them both up. "Hurry, come on before the order comes out from the noise!" she said desperately, trying to help the crippled forms up the steps.

With one final heave, the three of them were up the steps, and dragged into the girl's room. Hurried footsteps could be heard coming from the stairs.

"Just in time," Hermione mumbled, throwing the two redheads books before the door opened.

"Were any of you three downstairs?" Molly Weasley asked suspiciously. Hermione set her book aside and looked up innocently.

"No, Mrs. Weasley, we were here reading. We were catching up a bit before we started on any homework."

"Are you sure you aren't lying to me? Best to get it out before I find out the truth," Mrs. Weasley said. She was holding something behind her back, but Hermione was unable to tell what it was.

"Nah Mum, we've been up here. Wish we could join the meeting though- could we Mum, for Harry's sake?" Ginny said convincingly.

"Sorry guys, you can't come. You're underage." Remus Lupin appeared from behind the door, wearing a tired expression. He had rings around his eyes, and his hair was a bit matted.

"Oh, I don't think they care much about that Remus," Mrs. Weasley spoke up, pulling a book from behind her back.

Hermione mentally cursed. She had left her book on the stairs, and instead carried her two friends up the stairs. Mrs. Weasley had found it, and now they were in big trouble.

"Ginny," Lupin laughed weakly. "Have you been throwing things at the impenetrable charm on the door? Dung bombs were all right I suppose, but books? I think you're a little more responsible than that."

"I didn't put an impenetrable charm up this time." Mrs. Weasley said confusedly.

"Ah, but I did. It's removed now, of course, so I suggest we pull something else up." Remus said, leading Molly out of the room. Before he left he shot the kids a reproving look.

The kids all shared glances that showed a mix of disbelief, confusion, and relief.

"All right then," Ron said wearily.

"Well, that was an amusing lesson. Far more better than any I have attended in the past." Alex said, walking beside the Dark Lord to his room.

"Yes, they shall be a bit more like this in the future," the Dark Lord replied casually. Inside, the Dark Lord was smirking triumphantly. Har-Alex had the wonderful potential for a Dark Wizard. He seemed to enjoy the dark arts to a great extent. He had chosen a good heir.

"Draco is coming by later today, am I right?" Alex asked. He really enjoyed Draco's company, and had known him for a long time. Since he was six, maybe.

"Yes, he is. His father Lucius and I have some things to discuss." Voldemort replied, and came to a stop once they reached Alex's room.

Alex entered the three-colored room, closing the door behind him and jumping onto his bed.

He let out a moan of exhaustion. He had had a lesson on the cruciatious curse, and it had taken a lot of energy from him. Right now, his bed was the best thing next to a warm soothing shower. But that could wait, because Draco would be coming soon.

The last time they had met, the two had become indulged in a chess game that wouldn't end. Alex had wanted to continue on it.

His reason for such excitement over one little visit was reasonable. The deatheaters were not social teenagers. Neither was the Dark Lord.

Several minutes later, Draco came in through the door wearing long black robes with silver hemming. He looked frantic as Alex jumped from the bed to greet him.

Draco walked along the halls of Riddle manor with his father. He wore robes of silver and black that matched his father's. Lucius held his cane and wand in hand, walking elegantly along side his son. He came to a large, snake-encrusted door, and left his son with few words.

"Remember whom you will be speaking too," and he went swiftly through the door.

"Good-bye Father, have a nice meeting with the Dark Lord," Draco said sarcastically when he was sure no one could hear. Draco and Lucius always had such a formal, strict relationship. If you could call it one. Lucius worked around the clock with the Dark Lord's orders. He didn't often find time for his son.

The youngest Malfoy had grown to like Alex even in the least bit. He still despised the fact he had to bow down to him. But he was actually a good…acquaintance.

He found Alex's room, and walked in. He suddenly wished he hadn't. Mentally cursing, he jumped for the door he had closed, and frantically tried to open it. He had forgotten to knock! He had forgotten to bow! He had disrespected-

"Finally Draco, you feel comfortable enough to _just act casual._" Alex said, walking over to Draco.

"Uh, yeah." The blond Slytherin said, trying to figure if he should bow. Or even call him young master still. _No, order or no order, he is **bloody Harry Potter**. He doesn't deserve it and-_

"Ready to continue our chess game?" Alex interrupted Draco's thoughts.

"Er, yeah," Draco shook his head, and walked over to the table which held the chessboard.

"Is something wrong? You seem a bit…different." Alex commented. Draco paled a bit.

"Yes Young- Alex"- Draco said after a glare from Alex-"I am fine. Let us continue our game.

"All right then." Alex said, sitting down in his chair. "I had another lesson today. It was exhausting in my opinion- the Cruciatious curse."

"I found it rather easy to excel in, and easy to perform as well." Draco said, moving a chess piece. In truth, Draco could not perform it for at least a week. He was being boastful. Nothing new.

"Right," Alex said.

Draco moved his bishop in worry. Should he let Alex win? Would Alex know if he did? What if he _didn't _let him win? He couldn't lose though. A Malfoy never loses-

"Checkmate."

_Scratch that._

"Looks like I win Draco…want to play another round?" He asked eagerly.

Draco inwardly groaned, and nodded his head. How long was this going to go on?

**A/N: So we see a bit of everyone in this chapter. I promise, you will have some action soon. I'm sorry I took a while to update- I've been really busy. If I get… 39 reviews, you'll see the next update.**


	4. The Lies unfold

**Wow, Lots of reviews! Thanks everyone!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Sorry guys, I had a divider line, but it didn't show up last chapter! Sorry!**

**Chapter 4**

Alex walked around the halls the next, wasting time before his next lesson. Deatheaters would bow to him as he walked by, and say good morning young master. Sure it's great to be treated like a prince, but after the umpteenth bow, it gets a _bit _annoying.

The walls of the manor were lined with moving portraits of women and men, and sometimes animals as well. Above him, chandeliers hung that brightened up the room to a dim. It was kind've creepy walking along the scowling pictures wizards and witches in the dark, but he got used to it.

He walked by another group of Deatheaters, who were leaning against the wall. One of them was holding what looked like a…newspaper. They were muttering and pointing at the front page, but stopped abruptly when Alex came. Alex assumed there sudden silence was to bow. He waited patiently for them to get it over with.

When the Deatheaters saw Alex standing there, they waited a moment before all scrambling into bows, and greeting him as young master. One bowed so low, Alex was able to see the upside-down paper he was holding.

**The Boy-Who-Lived is Missing!**

_**Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived has gone-**_

The Deatheater released himself from the bow. Alex was intrigued. Boy-who-lived? He's obviously someone of great importance if he's made the front page. Why didn't Alex know about them? Maybe a Deatheater did.

"You there," Alex said, pointing to the Deatheater with the paper. "Who is this Boy-Who-Lived? Let me see the article."

The Deatheater looked positively frightened. Alex wasn't supposed to see anything that had to do with Harry Potter, for fear it would arouse memories.

"Give me the paper," Alex demanded firmly. He held out his hand, expecting the Deatheater to hand it over.

It might have been fine to hand him the paper, had their not been a picture of Harry Potter at the bottom of the page. Luckily, Alex had not got the chance to see it.

"I order you to"-

"What is all the commotion, now, Alex?" came Voldemort's chilling voice from behind Alex. The deatheaters gulped in fear at the sight of Voldemort.

"I gave him a command he seems unable of following." Alex said, glaring at the Deatheater.

"And what exactly was this command you were unable to follow?" Voldemort asked the trembling Deatheater.

The Deatheater, not wanting to risk himself any more trouble, simply folded the paper, and quickly handed it to Voldemort before Alex's eyes could peak.

Voldemort held the paper from Alex's view, and opened it. His face fell, and then contorted into anger.Alex edged over to Voldemort's side to try and look at the _Prophet_, but Voldemort pushed Alex roughly away, and shoved the paper in his pocket.

"Hey," Alex shouted, after being pushed into the wall. "What's the problem?"

"Nott," Voldemort said, completely ignoring Harry and turning to the Deatheater who had previously held the paper. "Follow me."

"Master I'm sorry! Do not punish me!" Nott cried, but was silenced by a harsh glare from the Dark Lord.

"Alex, our lesson will be postponed until after lunch." Voldemort said, which caused the boy to give him a questioning look.

"What's going on?" Alex asked as the Dark Lord walked away with the shaking Deatheater.

"Do not question me," the Dark Lord said roughly, "Go to your room- _NOW_!"

Alex scrambled out of the hallway at the sudden outburst of his adoptive father.

What had happened? It was just a news article…Right? Why was it such a problem that Alex couldn't see the story? He'd have to look into it later. Harry Potter- he stored that into his memory. The name sounded the least bit familiar.

He walked past the Deatheaters he had went by recently, each going through the same routine upon seeing him. He walked passed the scowling portraits, and into his brightly lit room, which he had to shield his eyes for a moment by the sudden change of light.

Alex grabbed a book from his shelf, _About the Dark Arts- _By Vanessa Blackhart. He'd read it several times already, but he really enjoyed the book. It was a whole introduction to the Dark arts.

He settled himself down in an easy chair, and began to read.

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Albus Dumbledore was worried. No matter how many searches that were put out, no trace of Harry Potter was found. Severus Snape, their spy, had not shown up to any Order meetings, so he could not share his input either. And his input was greatly needed, to insure if Harry was captured by Voldemort or not.

People had already assumed Harry was captured, and however obvious it was, Dumbledore was not ready to assume the worst. Maybe Harry had gotten lost…or captured.

Dumbledore had also considered that Harry had run away. But, then he realized Harry hadn't taken any of his things. So he wasn't too sure about that idea either.

Most order member were looking for Harry as well as the aurors, and they had no luck. Dumbledore wasn't even sure if there was anything _to _find. What if Harry was dead? Although it was a possibility, he was sure Harry Potter wasn't dead.

And technically he was right.

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Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were just as worried for Harry. They had gotten less news about him then the order. So basically, they got no news.

Ginny was often locked away in her room crying to herself, because everyone except Ron and Harry knew about the crush she still held for him.

Ron only held sad expressions across his face, and didn't feel very keen to talk about. Only to Hermione, though.

Hermione was tremendously upset. Although she would never admit it, she cried for Harry more than Ginny probably.

Ginny and Ron hadn't tried to break into any more order meetings. They knew they would fail, and receive a glum I-told-you-so from Hermione.

All three of them put an even more depressing state onto number 12, Grimauld place. They sulked, pouted, and hardly talked.

It wasn't until a few days later, Hermione broke from her state, and said, "We can't just sit around here sulking, guys." At this, the two redheads looked up blankly, and then lowered their heads again. "Come on guys, we've got to find Harry."

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Alex wasn't sure whether to leave his room to attend the lesson or not. Would the Dark lord get mad if he left? Surly not- he hates tardiness. But Alex was ordered to go to his room. He was debating the subject when Angus the house-elf came by.

"Master Alex," it said, lowering itself into a bow. "The Dark lord would like for you to come by for your lesson in five minutes. Same place, he says."

"Tha-thankyou Angus." Alex said, truly grateful for the message. And then upon realizing what he had just said to the house-elf, yelled for it to get out. Angus quickly scrambled out of the room, holding down the dirty material around her.

Alex, who was still wearing the robes he needed for his cancelled lesson, headed out for his newly scheduled one. Walking past the familiar hallways, he also went passed more bowing Deatheaters. Alex didn't spare them a glance as he walked proudly passed them.

He was still furious at the Deatheater who disobeyed him, and he wanted to show his authority to the Deatheaters who may have heard about the problem.

He finally came to the door where his lesson would be held, and he knocked.

"Come in," said Voldemort's cold voice, which had an air of anger to it.

Alex walked nervously into the room, wand in hand. He wondered if the Dark Lord would tell him anything about the newspaper. Surely he wouldn't just expect Alex to forget the thing that the Dark Lord had made such a dramatic scene over.

"Hello Alex," the Dark Lord greeted. "Are you ready to begin our lesson?"

"Yes Father," Alex replied, taking his place at the side of the Dark Lord.

"We are about to work on the killing curse. The incantation is _Avada Kedavra. _Once we have all the forgivable done, we will review them."

Alex inwardly groaned. As much as he liked the subject, reviewing them again and again just didn't seem fun.

Voldemort had Alex practice the incantation, before flicking his wand and having a teenage boy appear before them. The boy had been picked up by a deatheater, Dolohov. He had found the boy hanging around in a muggle town.

The boy immediately stood, and looked around frantically. He saw the Dark Lord, which scared him senseless, and then He spotted Alex. The boy blinked several times, before a grin spread across his face.

"Harry, Harry Potter!" he greeted, trying to get out of whatever fate was set for him. "Long time no see."

Alex gave him a confused look, and raised his wand, ready to send the curse.

"Harry, don't you remember me? Michel Corner! A Ravenclaw?" the boy said, pointing his hands at himself.

Voldemort mentally cursed. This was no muggle! This was a wizard, no-doubt a wizard _Harry Potter _knew.

"I'm not Harry, I'm Alex," Alex said, with a look of panic and confusion written across his face.

"No, see you've got the scar," Michel indicated to his forehead and then pointed at Harry. "The lightning bolt scar."

"Yes, but that doesn't make me Harry." Alex said firmly. The Dark Lord had told Alex that he had gotten in a duel. Alex even remembered the duel. Besides, Alex didn't know this boy…Right? He did look vaguely familiar, but Alex hadn't seen many children besides Draco.

"You're Harry Potter, I'd know you anywhere. Even with you funny haircut." The boy laughed. Alex glared, and aimed his wand.

"Harry, don't you remember? Um- Malfoy the amazing bouncing ferret. Moody did that, or, Barty crouch junior really. Umbridge? You can't tell me you don't remember her!"

_Umbridge…_Alex thought, and he quickly glanced down at his hand as a flash of memories came to him. He gaped at what he saw on his hand. _I must not tell lies_ was glowing a deep red. Alex didn't notice it at first, because it only looked a few scratches. But now…

Alex opened his mouth to speak to the boy, but Voldemort interrupted him.

"Alex, do not stall you lesson. It is important that you learn this."

Michel looked as though he still wanted to help Harry remember, but would not disrespect the Dark Lord's orders.

Alex wasn't so sure if he wanted to kill the boy anymore. What was going on? Wasn't Harry Potter the boy in the article? Harry Potter was missing, and Alex was not Harry Potter. So maybe the boy was crazy. Or maybe the boy wasn't. No, he should trust the Dark Lord.

Alex began, "_Avada_"-

"No, wait!" The boy named Michel shouted desperately, not wanting to get killed. "Don't you remember Ginny? Ron? Hermione?"

Hermione. That named sparked an interest in Alex. It seemed a bit more familiar than the boy. Bushy brown, _beautiful _hair. Chocolate eyes. A dazzling smile.

Voldemort noticed that Alex seemed to be in a daze. He knew that past memories were running through him, and that was not good.

Alex seemed to break out of this trance, by shaking his head. He glanced up at the Dark Lord with fearful eyes, and backed away a bit, almost tripping over his shoe.

_Great. He knows, _were the Dark Lord's first thoughts as the Alex or, Harry now, ran for the exit of the room.

The Dark Lord gave an impatient sigh. The memory charms he had placed on the boy were excellent, but Alex learned about his past to soon. Basically, the charms weren't strong enough than.

Harry made it out through the exit, and Voldemort grew angry. He would have to punish this _Michel Corner_ and the Deatheater who brought him.

The Dark Lord gave a quick stupefy to the Ravenclaw, and hurried out after Harry. He had not placed wards to keep Harry in the manor, because he did not expect this to happen so soon, or, at all really.

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Harry ran through the halls, hoping to reach outside of the manor in time. He didn't necessarily know everything, but he had enough recent memories come to him saying _Get out of here!_

He didn't know much that was going on, except his sworn enemy had tried to make him his heir? That just didn't seem right.

He passed several deatheaters, one he had to shove out of its bow, for it was in his way. A curse flew over his shoulder, and he turned to see Bellatrix speaking to the Dark Lord, and firing curses. Other Deatheaters continued, and soon the corridor was filled with curses, all missing Harry. Harry laughed a bit, and then jumped as a stunning curse nearly hit his foot.

Zigzagging now, Harry reached the end of the hall to run into a large emerald snake encrusted door. He pulled at it frantically with no success.

_**Push **door, _Alex nearly slapped himself. He pushed the doors, and ran out as fast as he could. He hoped he had left that place for good.

If only he knew how wrong he was.

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**A/N: And I leave you with this cliffhanger. Anyway, I'll be gone for about two weeks, and wont have time to write up the fifth chapter. So when I get back, I'll try to make it a long one. Thanks! Review please. The more reviews, the longer the chapter! This chapter goes to ****LacuStellar**! She wasn't the 39 review, but she had a long and great review! Hope you like this chapter!


	5. A fleeing escape

**Sorry I was gone for so long! Turns out I was away for longer than I had expected. Since school is coming up, chapters may be a little slow coming, or out of pattern. Bear with me.**

**For those of you who may not understand, Harry/Alex does not have _all _of his memories back, he just has enough to know he needs to get out. The chapter should explain things a bit.**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter!

**Chapter five**

Harry was panting and sweating. A cramp forming in his stomach. But he didn't care. He needed to keep running through the woods and thickets. It didn't matter that the branches swept past his face, leaving cuts that sent blood trickling down his face. Nor did it matter that his brain was jumping about with confusion. Getting away was what mattered.

He flinched slightly as a spell shriveled a tree branch that was beside him. The Deatheaters, and possibly Voldemort himself, were closing in.

Harry didn't know where he was headed. A gate? The end of the woods? Anywhere to get himself out of range of the headquarters. He didn't know where he would go if he got away. Possibly he could find that girl, whoever she was. Hermione, was it?

Back at the manor, Harry had felt a weird thing. As though he were swiveling through several memories inside a confused pensieve. He had some questions that certainly needed answers.

He had seen himself tied to a chair, with Voldemort drawing nearer, the memory wipe curse on his lips. He knew something was up.

He had also a sudden urge of hatred for the man. He knew Voldemort had caused him pain for many years, but had know idea what exactly it was. He also knew he certainly did not grow up enjoying the Dark Lords company.

There was also this boy, Ron, maybe, and of course, Hermione-

Harry ducked as a curse passed over his shoulder, and created a huge hole in a tree several yards in front of him. Harry poked his wand behind himself, shooting several stunners, and praying that they hit the intended target.

He just needed to reach apparation point. He could apparate away, but anybody could easily track that.

"Alex," he heard a frustrated voice call from behind him. "Come on, now, come on back. It is an order, I command you to cease this."

Harry assumed it was Voldemort talking to him. What Deatheater would give him an order?

"No!" Harry shouted fiercely, diving out of the way of another curse, and scraping his arm on a rough piece of bark. "And it's Harry!" he added defiantly. He did not want to be called Alex, now that he knew he was the missing Harry Potter.

Wait! That's where he'd go. The ministry! If he were being searched for, the ministry would definitely be happy to see him. But…where was the ministry?

Harry wondered if Voldemort would be able to apparate in front of him? Voldemort placed the wards, so would they affect him? He hoped the Dark Lord wouldn't think of that.

A curse grazed his cheek, leaving an even bigger bloody mess than the twigs could have caused. Harry wiped the sweat away from the cut, hoping to prevent the stinging it may cause. He winced at the pain once he realized he had only made it worse.

Over his head, Harry saw an unmistakable green light. Surely they wouldn't want to kill him, right?

"I said you aren't to kill him!" he heard the Dark Lord hiss to, what Harry inferred, must have been the Deatheater who shot the curse.

He heard the Deatheater pleading, but it was cut short. Harry assumed the pitiful soul was killed.

"Alex, I order you to stop. Get over here now, and the punishment will not be so severe."

"Yeah, but there will still _be _a punishment. And besides, I know better!"

Harry started running faster, ignoring his heavy breathing, praying for his adrenaline to kick in. Jumping over roots, stones, and piles of dead leaves, Harry was relieved to see a large stonewall, connected to a large black gate. With his luck, he may be able to squeeze through the gates bars. But the clearing meant it would be easier for the Deatheaters, and Voldemort, to hit him with curses. Maybe he could just blow a whole in the wall and scramble out quickly…

He ran hopefully into the clearing, twigs no longer scratching his bloody face. The Deatheaters not to far behind were shouting curses like crazy, which actually had a chance at hitting its target now.

Harry decided to slip through the gate, just in case the walls had wards upon them. He did not want to risk his chance at escape-

_Impedimenta! _

Harry flew up into the air, spinning a bit, before landing roughly on his back.

_Crack!_

Harry knew he heard a couple bones crack. He could also tell by the pain.

He felt like a helpless turtle on its back, except, without its limbs sticking in the air. He was unable to stand, or runaway now. Who knew that simple curse could have so much damage?

He waited nervously as the footsteps around him grew louder, and soon a towering figure loomed over him.

"Alex, Alex. I told you to come back, and now look what has happened. Everything will be better soon."

**A/N: Things are very hectic, and I have lost interest in writing. But I will continue for my readers. I know they have been waiting for this chapter, however short. Others will be longer, I promise. But aren't you happy even for this short chapter update?**

**But remember, the more reviews I get, the longer the chapters. The more reviews I get, the actual chapter you'll get.**


	6. Beautiful chocolate eyes

**Sorry if the updates are irregular. I hope you all like this chapter.**

**Warning: Occasional swearing**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Chapter 6**

Voldemort shot a spell at Harry, which enwrapped ropes around him. The sudden tightening of his body caused Harry to moan, as his injured bones disagreed with the motion.

Voldemort bent down and picked up Harry's wand, which had clattered to the ground in Harry's fall. "You wont be needing this," and Voldemort slid it slowly in his pocket. Harry watched painfully as his last shimmer of hope dissolved.

Voldemort barked orders to a deatheater standing behind him, and it quickly scampered over to pick Harry up. Harry felt himself still wince as he was roughly placed over the shoulder of the squat, but strong deatheater.

It only took a few minutes to be back inside the manor, and when they were all back inside, Harry was dropped onto the ground.

Harry struggled against his ropes as the Deatheaters and Voldemort formed a semi-circle around him.

"Alex," Voldemort said, still getting used to the new name he had given the boy. A name somewhat common, but good. "There is no use struggling. You are without your wand, and without a chance to escape."

Harry supposed he was doomed. Whatever was about to happen could not be prevented.

Harry wriggled more aggressively from the ropes as Voldemort drew nearer. Harry glared dangerously, and Voldemort laughed.

Harry was starting to get a headache, as memories seemed to appear every few seconds in his head. The confusion was overbearing.

Voldemort wore a sly grin as he stood over Harry. A sly grin that soon formed over Harry's features too.

Wandless magic. Harry had practiced wandless magic over the summer.

Voldemort's smile seemed to falter a moment before he became his poised self again and said to his deatheaters, "Snape, Malfoy, Nott, Dolohov. Follow me and we shall…put Alex in his right place again. I am afraid to have the memory charms at their full affects our dear Alex may have to be in a long sleep."

"A coma?" Harry squeaked, and mentally slapped himself for sounding so weak and vulnerable.

Voldemort ignored Harry as he spoke to his deatheaters, and this angered Harry. Time for the plan.

"Let me go," Harry cried innocently, knowing the immediate answer to come to the unrealistic demand.

"Do you take me as a foolish man, Alex? Why would I have you join with the light? Why can't you understand the power generating from you could do great things? Why can't you accept your position?" Voldemort questioned, a little tired at Harry's resistance.

"I'm not so sure about this supposed 'wonderful power' your talking about. And I'm not so sure I'm even ready to choose a side. But your right in thinking I take you for a foolish man." Harry said.

In that instant of rage from Voldemort, Harry freed himself from the ropes and jumped from the ground.

_Run for your life Harry, _Harry told himself. _Run from whatever the hell is going to happen._

Harry bounded up the grand staircase of the manor, spells weakening the shield he had behind him.

"Alex! _Come back here now_!" Voldemort had hissed the last part in parseltongue. _Wait? I'm a parseltongue?_ Harry thought. So many memories were spreading through his head.

Harry heard Voldemort shout orders to position Deatheaters at designated spots at to prevent escape.

"Shit." Harry murmured.

Right or left? Left or right? Harry looked both ways and decided on a left. **(Me: No Harry! You always take the right!)**

Harry's shield broke, and Harry looked behind him to see the few deatheaters who had come to the upper level was well. And _of course _Voldemort just _had_ to come too. _Great._

Harry ducked when he had no strength to summon another shield. There was a door at the end of the corridor. Harry planned to make it there and-

"Fuck!" Harry recognized the familiar pain of the stinging curse hit his hand, which began to spread to his fingers.

"Such language, _Alex._" Harry narrowed his eyes, although Voldemort could not see. Voldemort seemed to love to discomfort and anger him.

Harry made a mad dash for the door, ignoring the pain in his stinging hand as he tried to open the door with the hand of which had been cursed.

Inside the room, Harry sealed the door with all the locking spells he knew-which wasn't many.

"Open the door, Alex!" Voldemort shouted, losing his collected posture for a moment.

Harry ignored him, and looked around. He seemed to be in a large bedroom. Probably some Deatheater living quarters, he guessed. Now if there was a broom…

"_Accio broom_," Harry whispered frantically. Nothing happened.

Harry tried it again. And again. No broom.

Maybe, like Fred and George had done, he could summon one that would break through the wall…._ WHO THE HELL WERE FRED AND GEORGE?_

Harry thought it would do well to have complete memories.

All right. Yes. That would work. He hoped the broom would beat Voldemort in getting to Harry first.

Harry waited anxiously for the broom, memories flooding in his head. He knew it would be a matter of seconds until Voldemort would get inside. Why didn't Voldemort just blow open the door? Maybe the locking spells prevented it.

Harry was beginning to get slightly scared. He began to remember the old saying. You can run, but you can't hide.

Sure Harry could run- he was doing so now. But he could never hide.

Lord Voldemort would always find him.

Another memory swam by in his mind: Hagrid. What a funny name. And who's the redhead barfing slugs? Wait, the girl was there again…What was her name?

Harry heard a whiz of which he knew was his broom. The shimmer of hope had begun to brighten. But it was in the same hallway as the one Voldemort stood in. There goes the shimmer.

There was another weird sound of clicking, and a small explosion. And Harry watched the door swing open. In walked Voldemort with a broken broom in his hands.

That one shimmer of hope we had talked about? It's in existent.

"I told you, Alex, not to run. Now look what has to happen." Voldemort placed a stunning curse upon Harry. But not before another memory had its chance to return its place in his mind.

Hermione. Her name was Hermione.


	7. The End

**Warnings: Swearing and mentions of starwars, oh and character death. And slash. Be warned.**

**Enjoy:**

He awoke in a room abound with light, but empty with colored pencils. Uh-oh. This was not good. These pencils were lead pencils.

"What is the world coming to?" Alex muttered, pacing the room angrily. He could not be a mighty and fierce leader with regular lead, gray pencils...What was wrong with Father, doing such a thing.

Suddenly, the door swang open, and two Deatheaters came through the room in an angry huff. They advanced near him arms wide to prevent Alex from running out the room.

"Are you- Are you hear to have your way with me?" Alex whimpered with a horrified look plastered upon his face.

The Deatheaters gave a hearty laugh, "No, Young Master," and he pulled out a box from from his robes, "we have your colored pencils for you!" He handed the package to an excited Alex.

"My Colored pencils!" Alex shouted happily, and greedily opened the box of Crayola Colored pencils. Seconds later, he dropped to the floor clutching his forehead, screaming in rage and agony.

"Young Master!" The Deatheaters were unsure whether to race forward and and attend to the boy. "Is it your scar? Is that it Young Master? Is it your scar?"

Finally the boy calmed down enough, but was still panting and out of breath. He stood from the floor, and looked with a dead face at the two Deatheaters.

"I'm going to ask this once, and only once. Where is the Olive Green?"

The Deatheaters looked at eachother in confusion, "Excuse me"-

"I said once and only once, Mudblood!"

"Young Master, we"-

Once again, the boy dropped to the floor screaming in horrible anger and pain, and the Deatheaters were frozen in helplessness at what to do.

"WHERE THE FUCK IS MY OLIVE GREEN?" Alex screamed from on the floor.

He got up again, to which the Deatheaters pleaded apology at the missing pencil.

"Okay, I lied, I shall ask you one more time. Where is the Olive Green Pencil?" Alex asked menacinaly.

"Milord, we"-

For the third time, the boy broke down screaming with his hand over his forehead.

"My lord, we promise you we do not know where the olive green pencil is!"

Alex stopped screaming and looked up with a frustrated glare, "Who gives a fuck about the pencil, that was my scar! Help me up fools!"

The Deatheaters scrambled to help him up.

Another Deatheater showed up in the room, "Young master, milord awaits you in the meeting hall."

And so Alex went down into the meeting hall to see nine people tied and bound, and it triggered his memory yet again! Ron, Hermione his wonderful love, Luna, Ginny, Bill, Micheal Corner (How the hell did he get here), Fred, George, and Luke Skywalker.

Oh, and Mr. Peanut from the Planters industry was there too, but he didn't count. He's not real, not like Luke Skywalker.

Oh, and Alex realized he was Harry Potter. Again.

"Harry Potter, since I can not trick you into joining me, I shall force you! And together, our power will be unbeatable!"

"No, not my friends! Kill me! Not them!" Harry yelled heroically, flexing his muscles inconspiciuously for show.

"Harry, think about it! The power we could have! Be rid of your so called friends, and join me!" Lord Voldemort hissed.

"But these are my friends, you're my enemy Voldemort, and evil! I wont! I can't!" Harry yelled.

"Consider it, what we could do"-

"But I love Hermione, and"-

"I have the Olive Green Pencil." Lord Voldemort interrupted.

"Im in." Harry said quickly. "Where's the pencil?"

Voldemort smirked. "In young Malfoy's pants, dear Harry."

And one by one, Harry's friends died, while Harry and Draco had their fun, and Lord Voldemort and Harry rose to power.

But Harry never did get the pencil. Would you like to know why?

**End Last Chapter.**

**Don't ask for a sequel, and don't ask for an update.**

**That was sabotage my dear friends.**

**Good day, it was great working with you.**


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